Behind the Mask
by Jhomeboy
Summary: As Susie prepares the cookie tray, Mr. Bunn contemplates his growing insanity and decides to make a life-or-death decision. PG for suggestive homicide.


I have been barraged with requests to continue my "Dresser in the Attic" story. Unfortunately, I had only planned on their being one chapter and that was it. I like the idea of writing these little one chapter stories, although expect more like my "Alien" story, with chapters. Later, however, I might make a little rewrite, you know, and give it an alternate ending or something for those of you who wanted me to continue. You might like it better than the current ending. Anyhoo, enjoy. 

I gratefully forget the disclaimer. I don't want to write it. You know what it is. You do it for me. Yeah, that's it. 

Also, for those of you who read Stephen King, you might recognize this ending from one of his short stories in his latest novel, _Everything's Eventual. _I forget the title. It's the one with the traveling insurance man who contemplates suicide and his little notebook of graffiti. Enjoy.

I might have been stoned when I wrote this…I forget.

__

There it was it again. I swear to God there it was again.

Susie watched again, maybe waiting to see it again, to convince herself that she wasn't crazy, that it had been a figment of her imagination. The black eyes did not gleam again, and the smile that she had sworn she had seen was indeed gone. All was silent again.

__

Just as long as I'm sane again, she thought, _I might as well freshen up the supplies. _

Susie stood up and addressed her company. "I'll be right back, Mr. Bunn. I need to refill the cookie tray."

She left the yard and walked back into the house, to the cookie jar. To get more of the nasty oatmeal-raisin crap that Mr. Bunn just didn't like.

__

I can wait, he thought. And he could. He had waited his entire life and had put up with more stuff than most of his kind could take. The one next door did not have to suffer like this. _He _didn't have sit in fluffy pink skirts meant for the naked Barbie that was strewn aimlessly in the basement, for Susie had preferred it on him instead. _He _didn't have to sit at endless milk and cookie parties, just sitting forward, trying not to drool, trying not to get up and finally end the monstrosity that insisted on playing with him.

Mr. Bunn had seen the one next door, the one called Hobbes. He was like Mr. Bunn: he was all too real, it just mattered how you saw him. Some called it imagination. Mr. Bunn knew better than that. He was always out with his friend, Calvin, the one that Mr. Bunn would wish to be with. He was always putting Susie down as Mr. Bunn had always wished to do. However, he never wanted to kill her, as Bunn did. 

He heard something in the house clank open, something ceramic. His time was scrolling down, before he had to be silent and still again. He tried that catatonic look, but he hated it all too much.

The clank again, except in reverse. Now it was closing. His time drew near, the time before dawn came again and he would be hung mentally. He would prefer death like that to the monstrosity before him. Not another day would he stand for the tea she would pour for him, force it to his sewn mouth, then go "Oops!" when it would dribble down his front. Then she would force that nasty cookie into his face, and pull it away before he could eat. 

He could hear her coming across the kitchen. He may be small, but his hearing was excellent. He was on the brink of insanity. One more party like this and he would…would…

__

I'll kill her. That's it. I'll end my misery and kill her. Nobody would suspect the stuffed rabbit that is more than it seems. 

Would he get caught though? What would happen to him when she was gone? Would he be packed in a steamer trunk for the rest of time, only to be unpacked onto a garage sale table, only to go through the same Hell again? That was worse. No, he had to preserve her…

…or did he? 

There was no way of knowing.

__

Okay. If a red car passes by the street by the time she gets here, I kill her. He decided. It would end his misery, and that was what he needed. He could hear her coming across the hall and opening the door. Down the street, a car's engine roared, and another from the opposite direction. He could not see the color until they passed. 

He could wait, he thought as Susie started to amble across the yard, the tray of cookies in her hands. The cars drew closer from their sides of the street, toward him. 

He could wait.


End file.
